Wednesday, 29 November 2017

Gallivanting around a huge country in search of wildlife takes its toll. The old body clock is still adjusting, what with time differences and days that begin in the middle of the night. But the post holiday laundry basket is empty and the contents of suitcases and bags have been put away. Well, mostly.

This was a second visit to India but a first to Mumbai, our starting point. This is the country's largest (with a population of about 21 million) and most wealthy city (there are more millionaires here than anywhere else in India), its financial and commercial centre, and, of course, the home of Bollywood. A short stay, just a couple of days, but long enough to get a real flavour.

Our base was the hotel which was subjected to a terrorist attack in 2008 and where security arrangements are now extremely tight, with airport style checks and scans at the entrance and armed guards within. Opposite the Gateway to India (built to commemorate the 1911 visit of King George V and the archway through which the last British soldiers left the country in 1947), and with a view of the Arabian sea, the hotel is well placed for a spot of people watching, whatever the time of day.

Chhatrapati ShiBvaji Terminus, formerly the Victoria Terminus, is Mumbai's iconic railway station. Opened in 1887, it showcases an over the top mix of turrets, spires, gargoyles, statues, arches and other ornamentation and was another target of the 2008 terrorist attacks in the city.

Mumbai also boasts the world's largest outdoor laundry, the Dhobi Ghat, where hotels, hospitals, spas, and families send an estimated half a million items every day to be washed and pounded in concrete pens, wrung out by hand, dried on lines and finally ironed by washermen, the dhobis, who work 18 hour (and more) days. Never again will I moan about a full laundry bin.

Every Sunday at the Oval Maidan recreation ground, so many games of cricket are played simultaneously, it's difficult to work out who is playing in which one.

Mani Bhavan, a two bedroomed house owned by a friend and now a museum, was Mahatma Gandhi's headquarters whilst he was living in the city. His books and papers are stored here and on the second floor is his bedroom, complete with his spinning wheels, the only room in the house to remain exactly as he left it. Elsewhere is a series of small glass fronted boxes, detailed dioramas of the significant events in his life which were sadly too dark to take pictures.

Still called Bombay by some though always written as Mumbai, this is a city of stark contrasts. Flashy modern skyscrapers rise up between decaying buildings left over from a colonial past. There is evidence of great wealth whilst half the population struggle to survive in the most appalling slums or, even worse, on the streets. Unforgettable sights, incessant noise, overwhelming crowds, pungent smells bombard all the senses.